


And it goes downhill from here

by veryterriblewritings



Series: Original work [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adulthood, Depression, Dreams and hopes, Gen, Slice of Life, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryterriblewritings/pseuds/veryterriblewritings
Summary: But I hope the tables will turn one day. Before it all ends.T/W: Deep depression and heavy mental health issues.
Series: Original work [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733884
Kudos: 1





	And it goes downhill from here

Eighteen years old. High school just ended.

She knows exactly what do to, what she wants. She wants to travel, she wants to write. She’s taking that gap year. By the end of this year, right before college, she’s going to finish a manuscript. She is going to gloriously enrolled into a college as a writer, getting a degree while establishing herself as a writer. The future never seems brighter, tomorrow never looks so clear. She’s certain about this. She knows what she wants and she’s going to do what she wants.

Nineteen years old. A year just passed by with her doing absolutely nothing, nothing at all.

She was going to write. She wanted to. She still wants to. But nothing came out. A year has passed. There are no characters. No plots. No drafts. No manuscripts. Nothing.

She is confused. She needs to get out of the house, it has been a year. What is she going to do? She doesn’t know. She hasn’t got a clue.

She keeps refreshing the college application websites, multiple tabs open on her laptop. Which one should she choose? What was it that she wanted? What is it that she wants now? She hasn’t got a clue.

She can’t be a writer if she can’t write. She needs a back-up plan. Plan B.

She starts to fill in the application forms. To where? To everywhere. One of these colleges is going to offer her something, maybe, eventually. Fingers crossed.

Twenty years old. A law school drop-out.

It’s boring as hell. The people are boring. The books are boring. She’s becoming a boring person.

She feels pretentious the whole time. Reading about cases she doesn’t care about. Talking about issues she isn’t interested in. Debating about topics she doesn’t have a stance on.

She feels like two different persons. Which one is her true personality? Which one did she create to fit in? She spent the whole year trying to maintain her own personality as she developed set of another personality feel belonged. She followed her classmates, what they do, where they go, how they study.

A year passed by. She can’t tell the difference anymore. It scares her. So, she left. Maybe she can find herself again.

Twenty one years old. Trying to rekindle the candle of her passion.

She’s in college. She studies English. She’s not doing so well but she feels happy. The future doesn’t seem so bleak but it doesn’t seem too bright either. She is afraid to be sure, to be confident about the future.

She hasn’t been writing, nor reading. She hasn’t picked up a single book in two years. She has forgotten all about the adventures between the pages. She peeks into the books once in a while, still couldn’t ignite the fire of her imagination. She watches a lot of movies and series though. Not quite the same thing but she still likes to escape into the worlds of others. Never really liked living the world of her own. She’s still too boring.

Twenty two years old. Taylor Swift lied.

In between maintaining friendships and keeping up with classes, it’s nowhere near miserable nor magical. She doesn’t have the time to find the magic. She doesn’t have the time to sit and think about the past to even start being miserable. It’s just so-so, nothing special. She’s not special, she’s just like any other girl. Nobody knows her, no one really wants to.

She never really thought about love but she’s starting to. Especially when everyone around her starts to be in relationships. Maybe she should. But she doesn’t know how to.

There is no “one of those nights”. She didn’t go dancing instead of sleeping. There are a lot of those night when she has to sacrifice sleep to chase the deadlines of her assignments though.

She’s tired. She feels like time is always running out. All she wants to do is sleep and graduate college as soon as she can.

Twenty three years old. She graduated!

But barely, yeah. She doesn’t remember when was the last time she ever put a maximum effort into doing anything. She’s doing the bare minimum and she knows it. And she hates it.

She believes she has the potential to be great. Or at least 18-years-old version of her did. She doesn’t know where it all goes. She doesn’t know if it all will come back. She doesn’t try to bring it all back. She’s too scared, always has been, probably always will be. The future is scary, the past is scarier. And the present is terrifying. She feels stuck. So, so, very stuck.

What the hell is she supposed to do now? Maybe she should get one of those job things.

Twenty four.

She is depressed and it is about time that she admit that. And she did. She reached out, seeking help.

When she first told people about her depression, about how she felt all those times, all those years, they pitied her, sympathized and empathized with her situation. It feels like people are actually listening and understand her what she is standing on. And she is grateful. More than grateful, actually. For the first time in a really long time, she is sure that she isn’t fighting alone anymore. She figured that maybe this isn’t so bad after all. Maybe she could get through the storm if she had enough hands pulling her to the other side.

So, she feels all of it. The relief, the fear, the vulnerability as she spilt her feelings, emptied the weight that had been hanging off her chest, crushing her soul. But they aren’t always good feelings. She feels weak and exposed, and she doesn't like those feelings. She feels worthless, like a burden that everyone has to carry. But she chooses to have faith and believes that they are all trying to help her. Maybe, just maybe, she isn’t a burden and there are people who actually love and care for her.

And days turned into weeks, and one by one, they all start to go away. She doesn’t even know how to maintain the connection with them, let alone restart it. She is lost once again, in her own world, starting to give in to the ghosts in her head. She thought maybe it is true that she is a burden that they have to carry. And they have the power and choice to leave that burden behind and carry on. So, she is stuck in the storm, cold and crying, shivering in fear as the voices in her head keep on repeating that the other side doesn’t exist. That, even if she tries to get up and walk, the road ahead is still going to be all stormy and dark and windy and possibly thorny. That, even if she tries to power through it, the wind might just blow her away, back to the beginning. Where she had to start it all over again, not with new and refreshed steps but with drenched and exhausted and maybe even broken legs.

Sometimes, most of the time, it really feels like it would be better if she could just end it all.

Twenty five. She’s clinically bipolar, said the doctor. Trying to save what’s left of her. She wants to be okay. She will keep trying and trying until she can’t. And, I pray to God that she can.

**Author's Note:**

> i just want to let it all out.


End file.
